


Too Careful

by gallagherfamilyreunion (PrincessPeach)



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 01:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1963719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessPeach/pseuds/gallagherfamilyreunion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cute barista got Karen like</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Careful

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for language, as usual. Inspired by [this](http://gwencakeses.tumblr.com/post/91140313415/id-like-a-chocolate-cappuccino-with-lots-of%22) lovely post.

“Do you know what I miss?”

“What’s that, Mom?”

“That little coffee shop over on Butler Street. The Canary Café? They had a Viennese blend that was to die for. And with just a splash of milk—ugh!” Sheila made a slightly orgasmic sound that, while it made Karen slightly uncomfortable, was definitely a good sign after the rough day she’d had.

“Sounds amazing,” Karen agreed, patting her mother on the knee as they sat on the couch in the always-pristine living room. It had been an afternoon’s work to coax her down from the bedroom, but things seemed to be looking up now.

“I wonder if it’s still there,” Sheila mused.

“Dunno,” said Karen, who was hearing about this amazing coffee shop for the very first time. “I’ll have to go check it out.”

* * *

Confirming the existence of the shop wasn't too difficult, anway. Karen investigated the very next day after school: it was pretty much on the way, just one block over from her regular route, so what was the harm?

Unsurprisingly, the shop was still there: the place had the look of a local institution, with a slightly battered awning featuring the name “Canary Café” in fading yellow ink running across the storefront. The inside had a similar feel, with none of the slick corporate branding or over-polished surfaces that characterized most coffee shops. There was a scattering of small, square tables with well-worn linoleum tops and mismatched chairs that seemed to have been swapped out as needed with scavenged replacements.  A ‘50s-style diner board on the back wall advertised the food and drink offerings and prices, while a delicious-looking selection of pastries and pies was on display in the glass case down front.

A pair of baristas worked behind the counter, calm and businesslike as they handled what looked to be a small mid-afternoon rush. Five or six customers stood in line in front of Karen, which gave her plenty of time to figure out her order and double-check that she’d scrounged up enough change to pay for it.

“Hi,” said the guy at the register, a tall redhead with a refreshing air of genuine, unforced cheerfulness.

“Hi,” Karen replied. “Can I have a medium Viennese roast, please?”

“Sure, for here or to go?”

“Um, to go.”  

“Alright, that’s $2.57.”

She pulled out a handful of coins and crumpled bills and handed them over, and the register drawer opened with a pleasant ding. The cashier asked her name and assured her that her drink would be ready in a moment, so she moved awkwardly off to the side to make way for the next customer in line.

Karen continued to aimlessly check out the café, taking note of the faded vintage signs on the wall advertising everything from 2¢ gum to refreshing Pepsi-Cola. And then she noticed the other person behind the counter, a girl with jet-black hair, a kickass nose ring and killer cheekbones, and everything else in the room got a whole lot less interesting.

Even wearing an ugly, not-quite-vintage orange and white uniform and preparing ordinary coffee drinks, there was something about her, a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude that set off a whole cascade of warning bells in Karen’s head.

Well, not so much “warning bells” as “I desperately need to explore every single part of your body mind and soul oh god I’m so fucked” bells. If that was even a thing.

Which it had to be, because that was exactly what Karen was feeling, with an urgency so potent it seemed to tingle all the way to her bones.

So that was her excuse for totally missing it the first time the super-hot barista called her name to let her know that her coffee was ready. Or that’s what Karen assumed had happened, since the barista now called “Karen!” with a slightly impatient edge to her voice, and looked at her with an expression that said “Finally” when she stepped forward to claim her drink.

“Thanks,” said Karen, making sure to flash her most charming smile even though she was slightly flustered.

And then, in a totally inexplicable and unprecedented event, she lost all fine motor control in her hand just as she grabbed the paper cup, and watched in horror as it slipped through her fingers and fell to the counter. The lid popped off as it tipped over, spilling hot liquid all across the surface and eliciting a surprised “Shit!” from the barista.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” said Karen, grabbing a fistful of napkins from the silver dispenser on the countertop to sop up the mess.

“No worries,” said the barista—Mandy, according to her name tag. “Happens all the time,” she added as she produced a clean rag from behind the counter and soaked up the coffee in a couple of swipes. “Here you go.” She handed Karen a fresh cup, which she was careful to grab with both hands.

“Thanks again,” said Karen.

Mandy half-smiled in acknowledgement of the comment and then returned to work, and Karen left with what remained of her dignity as quickly as possible.

* * *

“Mmm, divine,” said Sheila in appreciation when she took her first sip of the hard-won coffee. “Just like I remembered. Thank you, sweetie.”

“No problem,” Karen replied, glad to see her mother smiling. “Did you have a good day?”

“Oh, yes. I alphabetized the spice rack; I don’t know why I didn’t think of organizing that sooner. And a boy called for you, um, Timmy Wong?”

Karen threw her head back and let out an annoyed sigh. “Crap.”

“Are you gonna call him back, or…?” Sheila asked out of curiosity.

“Maybe later,” Karen said unconvincingly. “I’m not in the mood right now.”

She neglected to add that there was a very specific reason she wasn’t in the mood to talk to Timmy Wong, and that reason started with “M” and rhymed with “candy.”

Karen was so fucked.

* * *

Obviously she had no choice but to go back to the coffee shop the next day to redeem herself. She began searching Mandy out the second she pushed open the door, noticing with a combination of relief and stomach-churning giddiness that she was indeed behind the counter again.

The shop was a lot less busy this time, so even before Karen had gotten her change back Mandy was standing ready with her coffee.

“Viennese roast for Karen,” she announced when they locked eyes.

“Thank you.” Karen grabbed the cup, but Mandy refused to loosen her grip.

“Got it?” she asked playfully.

“Yeah,” said Karen, feeling an embarrassed flush rise to her cheeks.

“Okay,” Mandy replied as she finally let go. “Can’t be too careful.”

Which was probably true, but—and Karen decided to keep her opinion on this to herself for the moment—seemed like no fun at all.

* * *

Karen skipped the next day, though. She had to play at least a little hard to get, right?

* * *

The deprivation made her next visit that much better, like the first drag after going too long without a smoke.

Mandy was alone behind the counter, her redheaded coworker taking advantage of the mostly empty shop to clear off some of the dirty tabletops. Karen met Mandy's eye as she walked up to the counter and was rewarded with a sly smile.

“Long time, no see,” Mandy said sarcastically (or flirtatiously, but maybe that was just wishful thinking? Karen was suddenly second-guessing herself).

“Yeah, well. You have really nice… coffee. Really good coffee,” she quickly amended. Christ, this was going spectacularly.

“Yeah, I guess,” Mandy replied with an unmistakable “what the fuck are you talking about” expression. “So did you want to order, or…?”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” said Karen, and placed her regular order to go.

Instead of asking for her name, Mandy scrunched up her face (in truly adorable fashion, Karen couldn’t help but notice) like she was searching her memory. “Um… Karen, right?” she asked after a moment.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Karen found herself blurting. “I mean… yeah, that’s… my name,” she added, blushing hotly. Why the fuck was she acting like such a weirdo? It was like she’d never had a crush before.

Which, come to think of it, maybe she hadn’t. At least not like this.

If Mandy noticed Karen’s mortification she was ignoring it, thank God, and going about her business as usual.

“You know, we sell this stuff by the package,” she informed Karen, sliding a sleeve onto the paper cup she held and marking on it with a Sharpie before filling it. “It’s a lot cheaper.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to see you every day.” Karen almost laughed out loud at her own awkwardness—could she be any more obvious?

Apparently the answer was yes, because Mandy still seemed oblivious to the serious existential crisis Karen was dealing with. “Good point,” was all she said, putting a plastic lid on the cup and sliding it across the counter. “Here you go.”

Karen took her cup and was about to walk away (from the whole thing, forever; at this point it seemed like the best she could hope for was that someday she’d forget it ever happened) when she noticed what was scrawled on the side of the cup. “Hey, um, that’s not my name.”

“No, it’s not,” Mandy confirmed. “That’s my number.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> gallagherfamilyreunion on tumblr + share [this post](http://gallagherfamilyreunion.tumblr.com/post/91897224220/too-careful-shameless-us-archive-of-our-own) if you like :)


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